


love unriddled

by panaderia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, M/M, Slice of Life, atsumu in kita-san’s pov, i’m kidding there’s really no plot just atsumu (love), kita’s eyes as plot device, rated G-passable until the twins said fuck, sunset as catalyst for yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29509320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panaderia/pseuds/panaderia
Summary: There is something special in Miya Atsumu.And people see that, sure. Those who care enough to look his way couldn’t deny that he is brilliant. Those who care and know enough say he’s brilliantbut. Kita thinks that Atsumu is brilliantbecause.Because Kita understands.—[for atsukita week: free day]
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48
Collections: Atsukita Week





	love unriddled

**Author's Note:**

> here’s a **[spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Qif9fqzkqnb3YjmXC0C8A?si=s3wb4fGxQi6QZNYVmqXC8Q)** to accompany your reading! please indulge c:

“He has the eyes that have seen hundreds of summer seasons. Lovely, Yumie, very. Oh, what a gem your little boy is.”

Eight-year-old Kita politely kept his head low as he let his grandmother’s friend pat his hair affectionately. Out on their porch on a good day, he didn’t quite understand the weight of that statement— _was there?_ —but it was spoken like it is a compliment. He searched for his grandmother’s eyes to confirm if it is one, and he’s met with a smile—his grandma’s usual, loving one.

That night, curious, bare feet padded across the living room to claim the seat beside his lounging grandmother.

“Granny, can you explain what Obaasan said earlier about my eyes?”

“Oh, you got curious, didn’t you?” She smiled. “Maybe she meant you’ve seen more things than her, or even me! And that’s nice. It means you are wise for your age.”

“But how can that be possible? I am sure you know things that I don’t know yet. That’s why I study, right?”

“Of course, Shin-chan.” Yumie gazed at her grandson’s eyes and felt familiar wonder stirring inside her chest. She long knew about what her friend saw in Shinsuke—this is not the first lifetime those eyes had seen. They were brown, like the dull color of the barks of trees, trees that have been standing longer than her on Earth. “But there’s more to life than just knowledge from school!”

“You… You mean I have more to study about, Granny?”

“You think so?” Endeared, Yumie ducked down to his level, as if to tease him with a little secret, “I trust that you already understand enough, though?”

It would turn out that as Kita grows older, more people would think likewise.

It’s not every day that someone is graced by a chance to meet somebody like Kita. There is something in him that sets him apart from folks of his age. Perhaps it is this air of wisdom that never leaves him, like if Kita and another random person are standing side by side and some stranger would be asked to pick one of them to get a task done, the stranger would pick Kita, no hesitations. Kita just has this aura of confidence—chilling, actually, but reliable all the same—like he knows the right thing to do in every situation. But Kita himself begs to differ. His confidence doesn’t come from always knowing the right thing to do—it is from doing things properly, whatever it is.

That is just the way he is. There is nothing special about it.

There is something special, however, in Miya Atsumu.

And people see that, sure. Those who care enough to look his way couldn’t deny that he is brilliant. Those who care and know enough say he’s brilliant _but_. Kita thinks that Atsumu is brilliant _because_.

Kita’s first striking impression of Atsumu was that one afternoon when they were onto tossing and spiking drills with freshman Atsumu as the assigned setter. Everybody—except the other twin Osamu, Kita had observed—was stirred to get a feel of their newest setter’s tosses. Kita’s turn came and his spike for the first ball was nice, although he didn’t expect it to feel _that perfect_ against his palm.

When he met eyes with Atsumu, a quick glance after his feet landed from the leap he just did, he knew the setter caught the subtle awe in his eyes.

 _They’re easy to hit, aren’t they?_ Those were the unsaid words the younger’s smug grin conveyed. Just as before he looked away from their new setter, he caught his gaze morphing into another statement: _I make it easy for you. Do your part._

Oh. Alright.

So he’s _that_ kind of player.

As the relay went on, Kita had to admit he noticed the increasing ease the tosses offered, like it’s got a tag with his name _and his name alone_ on it.

And it’s crazy.

Kita did his part.

From then on, Kita learns why Atsumu is confident with his tosses. His sets are never done with inadequate effort. Daring back bending and squats are done on-court whenever the situation calls for it. Every game ball meets utmost care when it comes into contact with Atsumu’s fingers—yes, fingers, hardly ever his arms.

Earnest dedication. Reverence to his playing position. Passion.

Kita learns to expect the best tosses from Atsumu—whether or not the tosses are sent his way.

Kita initially thought that it’s because he is the captain that’s why he feels obligated to understand his team. But understanding Atsumu never felt like an obligation. He could swear Atsumu’s character is like their team banner spread out and tied to the railings on the second floor of their school gym, a phrase open for him to read in easy yellow against black it's almost funny.

Kita recalls a practice game against another school, the freshmen’s first. A third year was chosen as the starting setter for that game and not Atsumu. That gave rise to some grumbling from Atsumu’s end, which Osamu fiercely tried to rein in, thankfully knowing better than to let his rookie of a twin act all haughty and self-important in their first practice game.

Kita saw the twins’ spectacle, since he as well was off-court—like always.

Others would view Atsumu’s hissy fit as him being so cocksure about himself. Kita saw that _and_ three more things.

Itch to play. Thirst for experience. Hunger.

He saw hunger and through the years, he’ll also see how it will steadily simmer in Atsumu until it's high time for it to break free from its tether.

When it comes to Atsumu, there is always a but. Yes, he is capable _but he’s a prick_. He is seasoned _but he’s too proud about it_. Good thing Atsumu is already used to caring less about the buts that follow him. Inarizaki treats him better, better than how middle school treated him. Osamu is a steadfast support—always has been, even though Atsumu doesn’t see the pillar for what it truly is. Osamu never gives himself away after all, and this thought always makes the right corner of Kita’s lips quirk up.

Kita first hears the story about all those buts and immediately thinks there’s more to it. People are presumptive, conclusive individuals anyway. He even thinks he is being subjective regarding Atsumu (though he can’t quite blame himself for seeing through the setter a little better than how others can do—he don’t know how, he just does), but he eventually realizes that it is not solely about him being biased—it’s because Atsumu treats him a bit differently from others too.

He treats Kita with overt courtesy, and that is regardless of the scoffs and snorts Atsumu gets from his twin every time.

 _“A polite face looks_ so _alien on you.”_

_“Shut the fuck up.”_

Kita speculates it is because he doesn’t get in the setter’s way during games, and he actually _gets the job done_ when needed. Kita supposes that is what Atsumu sees in him—if him doing hours of practice almost as much as the hours Atsumu spends on his own is something respectable.

Come Kita’s third and final year in high school—his year of volleyball team captaincy. Kita isn't so sure when exactly the respect in Atsumu’s eyes turned into interest and interest into fondness.

(Kidding. Kita has seen the steady and barrelling change in Atsumu’s eyes during these past months.)

Atsumu’s loud and assertive ‘Kita-san’s during his first year in the volleyball club quietens. He begins to prefer communicating with Kita through meek eyes, child-like nudges, and soft hums. Kita constantly feels the younger peering at him from under his lashes whenever they sit in front of each other at cafeteria tables. Kita laughs at something Ren and Akagi are arguing about only to meet Atsumu’s eyes from the other side of the gym. Atsumu attempts a joke and would always, _always_ search for Kita to see if he also finds the joke funny. Atsumu leans on Kita’s shoulder during long bus rides to home after their away games and Kita would feel Atsumu’s cheek bunching into a smile as he exhales contentedly after making himself comfortable. Three gentle pats on the bleached hair, with his palm sliding down to toy with the short hairs on the younger’s nape is what makes Atsumu’s big mouth snap shut, allowing Kita to proceed with his captain recaps and pep talks for the day.

All of those—Kita understands.

Kita is a defensive specialist. He is expected to dig smashes and to return serves. When he enters a game he is a looming authority on court, a presence that draws rein when the horses are too high with the feeling of racing.

Kita is a defensive specialist, but aside from it, he is also a wing spiker.

Before the nationals, he had this tiny conversation with Atsumu.

“What do you think of my tosses today, Kita-san?” Atsumu fished for his usual after-practice compliments from Kita on their way to the clubroom. “Easy to hit, as always.” It was the response that would always make Atsumu grin like a kid who just got a star stamped on the back of their hand. “And you seem to be more tuned up than last week, I’m glad you listened to me last Friday to go home and rest.”

Perhaps it’s the memory of that Friday that made Atsumu look down to his practice shoes and smile, shyly this time. “Let’s make you hit a toss in the Nationals! Or more!” Atsumu met his eyes as the younger pushed the heavy clubroom door for the both of them with his hip, since their arms were occupied with random paraphernalia. “If needed, Atsumu, sure,” Kita said. “If it’s the best decision.”

But Nationals passed. Their defeat against Karasuno happened, but the toss for him did not.

Atsumu pushes the heavy door by sluggishly slumping his entire weight against it. He hasn’t been meeting his captain’s eyes during their entire walk to the clubroom and the oddity of it all is what reminds Kita of their pre-Nationals conversation.

Frankly, his playing positions matter less to him. Whether he played _this_ position or _that_ role weighs less importance—he knows he did everything properly during the time he was on court. Defeat aside, his team had a great game. “I told you if it’s the best decision, we’d do it,” he starts. Atsumu turns his head to Kita’s direction, caught off guard. His shoulders slump but he still remains silent. “There wasn’t a toss sent for me to spike because it’s not the wisest play you could do for those rallies. And that’s fine. You know that.”

Atsumu is still not facing him. “Right, it’s just… I shouldn’t have said anything that time.”

“Why? For what it’s worth I’m glad you considered tossing to me.”

“What kind of— of course I do, Kita-san! I always like the look you give me after spiking my tosses!”

You see, Atsumu isn't really that horrible. Kita smiles. “I like your tosses too. They’re sincere.”

Atsumu looks at him like how he looked at Osamu and Suna that one time when they argued about the 30-point essay at the back of their test papers only to recall he saw _no_ essay because he didn’t flip his paper.

But Kita doesn’t explain. What he does is spike Atsumu’s tosses in their next practice; meets him in the eye for every exceptionally nice toss. Nationals or not, he’ll hit Atsumu’s tosses, as long as they’re sent his way.

Atsumu’s thirst for victory can be overwhelming, sure, but the same thirst for greatness is what pulls the most awesome possibilities of plays from Inarizaki.

It manifested even more when Atsumu assumed captaincy for his third year. The Miya twins, more phenomenal than ever, spearheaded Inarizaki’s loud howl for retribution against Karasuno. Kita, with Aran beside him, just as proud, have seen it all for themselves. He thinks he truly wouldn’t afford to miss this moment for the world.

Atsumu’s thirst for victory can be overwhelming, and Kita wonders for a moment if that’s the case with Osamu. He hears Osamu’s plans about enrolling for quick courses about business administration from Aran. Atsumu, as expected, is positively considering scouting offers from V.League teams. The twins’ fight last year, the one he only heard about because Gin and Suna didn’t bother calling out for him during the brawl, seemed to be real after all.

Now Kita could only wonder how Atsumu is faring in this time of transition, especially that he’s treading into vaster greatness with nobody close to his side, for the first time in his life.

Months stretched to a year, a year stretched to almost two, before Kita personally hears it from a Miya.

“I’m sorry for the sudden visit, Kita-san,” Osamu says as Kita offers him a seat. “Now that I’m here I realized that I should’ve found a way to contact you first instead of appearing at your doorstep out of the blue.”

“Too much formality, Osamu, no need for those. How can I be ungrateful for a sudden visit of an old friend and a teammate?” He gives the younger a kind smile as he wipes the sweat on his forehead with the white towel around his neck. Osamu caught him in his last hours of work for today. “Would tea be okay?”

“I don’t want to refuse, Kita-san.”

Kita chuckles. “‘Course you must not. I’ll be back in a jiffy, make yourself comfortable.”

He prepares tea and biscuits for them, and when Kita comes back to the porch he sees Osamu gazing at the vast fields where he toils on the daily. It will be harvest season in three weeks’ time.

“The fields are lovely this time of the year,” Osamu starts. “To think that all those within sight are of your hard work… That’s quite cool.”

“Silly, of course I get some help, but thank you for thinking so.” He nudges the cup of tea towards his visitor. “How about you, how’s it going lately?”

But Osamu is obviously not here for just a small talk. He meets Kita’s eyes and Kita knows right off the bat that his _kouhai_ means business—well, literally and figuratively. A great look on Osamu, honestly. Kita is tickled to hear it.

“I don’t know if you’ve already heard but I’m in the works of opening an onigiri place soon. And I’m here to ask you to be our rice supplier, Kita-san.”

Kita agrees right away. Osamu, amused by how it went that easily, exhales an unbelieving breath, but he’s grinning from ear to ear as well. “Seriously, did you really think I was going to say no?” Kita asks, feigning offense. “Come on, I cannot not be in this.”

The day ends with Osamu snapping a couple of pictures of the green fields in its sunset glory, claiming that he’ll send it to Atsumu to show him what he’s missing out on. The twins’ usual showdowns—Kita fondly recalls.

By the time Osamu leaves, strong oranges are subdued and pink hues have taken over the sky. Maybe hearing his name from someone so achingly familiar has done it, but this sky reminds Kita of Atsumu, the faint hints of blush across his cheeks back then. Kita ponders. Was it really in _this_ shade of pink? It feels like it isn’t. But it’s been a while, it’s blurry in his head, and he’s not quite sure himself. Maybe he’ll just try to make out of it the next time he sees Atsumu on television for another volleyball match. Well, if that would do.

Kita feels wistful. Memories are a tricky, trippy thing.

Months have passed. Onigiri Miya took its flight from Osamu’s careful hands and soared high. Patrons have flocked; people can’t seem to get enough of Osamu’s meticulously-crafted varieties and flavors.

Kita personally drives his truck to the place every scheduled delivery of rice supply. In fact, he is currently at the location for another delivery this month. He honks his truck’s horn twice to signal his arrival and gets off from the driver’s seat. On normal days, Osamu would emerge from the entrance with a friendly smile on his face, ready to help him carry the bags of rice into the stock room. Kita sees to it that he always arrives before opening hours so as to not interrupt Osamu from his business for the day.

Kita hears some fuss from inside, though.

And oh—some of the wooden stools? Wooden stools tumbling down?

“Break any fucking thing in my restaurant and you’ll pay for it you clumsy dimwit!”

Osamu parts the door curtain out of his view to greet Kita with his usual smile, as if he wasn't angry yelling just literally a second ago. He isn’t wearing his black work cap yet.

And peeking from behind his hip—yes, the person is crouching _that_ low—is his twin, with an onigiri stuffed into his mouth, cheeks puffed as he eyes Kita curiously and shyly all at once.

It is Kita who tears his eyes away from Atsumu first. “Good morning,” he greets, “twins,” he adds. For good measure.

It’s been a while since Kita got caught by… a nice surprise.

“Good morning Kita-san, the weather seems good today,” Osamu returns the greeting as he walks towards the back of the truck where Kita is standing. Still.

Osamu hauls two rice bags from the truck, one for each of his arms. “What a good day to have an excited pro volleyball player as a store crew,” he singsongs as he stalks to the back of his store. “Help Kita-san with the rest of the rice bags, Miya!”

“Not when you’re a Miya too!”

Classic, familiar banter. Kita allows some kindness to himself and doesn’t restrain the smile that breaks across his face upon hearing the exchange. He then begins with his task at hand and lifts two rice bags.

That seems to jolt Atsumu into moving from his position by the door frame. “I’m kidding, I’ll help!” He rushes to Kita’s side and the proximity he created seems to jolt him (again) into realization.

Months have passed since that pink sunset. And memories are certainly a tricky, trippy thing, because it is the wistful sunset that’s suddenly blurry and the exact shade of blush is what’s vivid in Kita’s head right now.

Seeing it again definitely helps, he figures out.

“Kita-san…”

His name being spoken quietly by somebody like Atsumu it’s almost unthinkable, and those eyes on him—meek at times and earnest at most—they’re still the same.

That’s a relief.

“Hello, Atsumu.”

Nothing has changed—and Kita still understands.

**Author's Note:**

> miyakita meet scene is a nod to [this fanart](https://twitter.com/minoru_HQ/status/1254641770232639488/photo/1), one among my many favorites. please show the art piece some (proper) love too :>
> 
> [fic graphic here](https://twitter.com/breabloaf/status/1365891324382093312?s=21) made by my lovely friend [yna](https://twitter.com/memoirofdust)! she’s also the one who curated the playlist i linked @ the notes earlier yep she did the Most for this fic if you see this yna my heart is so warm because of your support i 🍃 u!!!
> 
> aaaaand to you!! thank you so much for the time you gave this fic!!!


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